


Midnight Sun

by CrypticBoi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twilight Fusion, M/M, Vampires, im sorry, poor kurapika, the phantom troupe as the cullens, this is just midnight sun, u bet ur ass kuroro is edward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26611150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticBoi/pseuds/CrypticBoi
Summary: " As I met his penetrating gaze, read the surprise and the sympathy there, I abruptly yearned for sleep. Not for oblivion, as I had before, not to escape boredom, but because I wanted to dream. Maybe if I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live a few hours in a world where he and I were together. He dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of him"(I am n o t original at all, but here we go. imma rewrite midnight sun but kurokura >:,) )((Also disclaimer, all of this is just for fun i take no credit in all of the ideas and writing))
Relationships: Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Kurapika
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Midnight Sun

This was the time of day Kuroro wishes he were asleep.

High school.

Or was purgatory the right word? If there were any way to atone for his sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium was not something he grew used to; every day seemed more monotonous than the last. 

Kuroro stared at the cracks running through the plaster at the far corner of the cafeteria, imagining patterns that weren't there. Focusing on that was one of the ways to tune out the voices that babbled like the gush of a river inside his head. 

Several hundred voices he ignored out of boredom.

Every thought he heard was one he has already heard a thousand times. Today, all the thoughts were consumed with trivial drama of the new addition to the small school Kuroro found himself attending. It was so easy to work them up. All he saw today was the same face over and over again, a new angle in every thought. Just an ordinary human boy. All the excitement over him was tiredly predictable- it was the same reaction one would get from showing toddlers a shiny object. Both sheep like men and women were already imagining themselves infatuated with him (or her as some of the clueless men think of the boy). Kuroro tried harder to tune them out.

Only four voices did he block out of courtesy rather than distaste: his family, his two brothers and two sisters. They were used to the lack of privacy when they were near him and they barely worried about it. He gave them what he could and tried to ignore them. 

Try as he may, still… he knew.

Machi was a stagnant pool with few surprises. She was thinking of herself but didn't bother comparing herself to the humans here. That juxtaposition would have been laughable, absurd. She thought of others like us, none of them her equal. 

If Machi was a stagnant pool, then Uvogin was a lake with no shadows, glass clear. There was nothing the taller man wouldn't think that he wouldn't say out loud, so Kuroro felt little guilt hearing his thoughts. He was still fuming over the wrestling match he lost to Feitan the night before, knowing he would still have to wait a few more hours before he could demand a rematch. 

And Feitan was… suffering. Kuroro suppressed a sigh.

Kuroro . Pakunoda called his name in her head and had his full attention in an instant. He didn't turn, they already perfected having these silent conversations that very rarely anybody got suspicious.

How is he holding up? She asked. 

Kuroro frowned, just a small change in the set of his mouth. Nothing that would tip the others off. He could easily be frowning out of boredom. 

Feitan was too still. He wasn't performing the human ticks that they all must do, constantly in motion as not to stand out, like Uvogin playing with his hair, Machi crossing and uncrossing her legs, Pakunoda tapping her feet against the linoleum floor, or Kuroro, moving his head to stare at the imaginary patterns in the walls. Feitan looked paralyzed, his small lean form ramrod straight, even his ebony hair seemed to not be affected by the slight breeze that always seemed to be moving through the cafeteria. 

Paku’s mental tone was alarmed now, asking if there was any danger, though she was already skimming through visions of monotony for the source of his frown. She still remembered to bring one fist up to her chin and blink multiple times. She brushed away a stand of golden hair from her focused eyes. 

Kuroro turned his head to the left, looking at the brick wall, then to the right at the cracked ceiling. The others would assume he was playing human but only Paku knew that he was shaking his head. 

She relaxed. Let me know if it gets too bad.

Kuroro moved only his eyes, up to the ceiling, then down to the scratched surface of the table.

Thanks for doing this.

Kuroro was glad he couldn't answer her out loud. What was he supposed to say? My pleasure? It was hardly that. He didn't enjoy tuning into Feitan's struggles. Was it really necessary to experiment this way? Wouldn't the safer path be to just admit that he couldn't handle his hunger like the rest of them could? Why flirt with disaster? 

It had been two weeks since their last hunting trip and it was no problem for the rest of them. It may get a little uncomfortable occasionally- when a human walked too close, if the wind blew the wrong way. But humans rarely walked too close. Their instincts told them what their conscious would never understand; they were a danger that must be avoided. 

Feitan was very dangerous right now.

Kuroro

Reflex reaction. He turned to the sound of his name being called, though it wasn't being called. Just thought. 

Kuroro’s eyes locked for half a second with a pair of large, ocean blue human eyes set in a pale, heart-shaped face. He knew that face, though he never saw it himself before this moment. It had been the foremost in every human head today. The new student, Kurapika Kurta. The new foster child of the chief of police, brought to live here by some situation that happened at his last foster home. 

Kuroro looked away bored. It took him a second to realize that he had not been the one to think his name.

Of course he's already crushing on Lucilfer, he heard the first thought continue. 

Now he recognizes the voice. 

Neon Nostrade- it had only been awhile since she’d bothered Kuroro with her internal chatter. What a relief it had been when she finally got over her misplaced fixation. It used to be nearly impossible for him to escape her constant, ridiculous daydreams. He wished, at the time, he could have shown her exactly what would happen if his lips, and the teeth behind them, got anywhere close to her. That would have silenced those annoying, unrealistic fantasies. The thought of her reaction almost made him smile.

Fat lot of good that will do him, Neon went on. He’s really not even that good looking. I don't know why Killua is staring so much… or Gon.

She flinches mentally at the latter name. Her new obsession, the generically popular Gon Freecss, was completely oblivious to her. Apparently he was not oblivious to the new boy. Another child reaching for a shiny object. This put a mean edge to Neon's thoughts, though she was outwardly cordial to the newcomer as she explained to him the commonly held knowledge about Kuroro’s family. The new student must have asked about them. 

Everybody is looking at me today, too, Neon thought smugly. Isn't it lucky Kurapika has two classes with me? I'll bet Gon will want ask me what he’s-

Kuroro tried to block out the inane chatter out of his head before the petty and the trivial could drive him mad. 

“ Neon Nostrade is giving the new Kurta boy all the dirty laundry on the Phantom Troupe,” Kuroro muttered to Uvogin as a distraction.

He chuckled under his breath. I hope she's making it good, he thought.

“Rather unimaginative, actually. Just the barest hint of scandal. Not an ounce of horror. I’m a little disappointed actually.”

And the new boy? Is he disappointed in the gossip as well?

Kuroro listened to what this new boy, Kurapika, thought of Neon’s story. What did he see when he looked at the strange, chalky-skinned family that was universally avoided?

It was Kuroro’s responsibility to know his reaction. He acted as a lookout, for lack of a better word, for his family. To protect them. If anyone ever grew suspicious, he could give them an early warning and an easy retreat. It happened occasionally- some human with an active imagination would see them as characters in a book or a movie. Usually they got it wrong, but it was better to move on than risk scrutiny. Rarely, very rarely, someone would guess right. They never gave them a chance to test their hypothesis. They simply disappeared, to become no more than a frightening memory.

That hadn't happened in decades.

Kuroro heard nothing, though he listened close beside where Neon’s frivolous internal monologue continued to gush. It was as if there was no one sitting beside her. How peculiar. Had the boy moved? That didn't seem likely, as Neon was still babbling at him. Kuroro looked up, feeling off balance. Checking on his extra ‘hearing’- it wasn't something he ever had to do.

Again, Kuroro’s gaze locked onto those wide blue eyes. He was sitting right where he had been before and was looking at them- a natural thing to be doing, he supposed, as Neon was still regaling him with the local gossip about the Phantom Troupe. 

Thinking about them would be natural. 

But Kuroro couldn't hear a whisper.


End file.
